You Can Hug Me If You Want
by truly unruly
Summary: Oneshot. Eight years after the Earth flew across space, Donna Noble gets an unexpected visit from a familiar stranger. Post-Journey's End. DonnaJack.


**Author's Note: **Just a one-shot to get the writing juices flowing again. Hmmph…it's weird, but I haven't felt like writing since DT quit "Doctor Who"…_maybe _they're connected…

**Disclaimer: **This disclaimer has been written so that I may disclaim my claim that I own "Doctor Who". However, I do not remember ever making a claim that I owned "Doctor Who", so I do not see why I should disclaim this apparent claim. But it is the rule: "Disclaim Your Non-Claim If You Don't Want To Be Sued". Therefore, I shall disclaim my nonexistent claim to "Doctor Who" and write this disclaimer – _"Doctor Who" is not mine. _And that was fun to write. That _is _a claim.

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**You Can Hug Me If You Want**

There was a knock on the door.

Actually, it wasn't so much a knock as a tremendous thumping that wouldn't stop. Donna lifted her head from where she was ironing her shirt and stared at the front door, as if she thought it would splinter under the strain. After a few seconds, she recovered from her shock and instead felt irritated. It was almost quarter to ten at night, this was the _first chance _she'd had all day to do the bloody ironing and some idiot tries to break the door down! Well, Donna Noble was _not having it_!

Storming to the door, Donna grasped the handle and threw the door open, "Right! Who—"

Then she cut herself off with a gasp. It wasn't any burglar or bodybuilder like she'd expected; in fact, quite the opposite. The man in front of her was a good few inches taller than her, and there definitely hints of muscle under his blue shirt, but he didn't look all _that _threatening.

The man was wearing a perfectly normal shirt and black trousers, but attached to the trousers and looped over his shoulders were suspenders (_surely no-one's worn __suspenders__ since the forties!_) and over the top was a heavy, military-style trench coat. _Not _the attire of a straight man, Donna noted, unless he was actually part of the military. He definitely seemed to be; he stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind back, feet set a shoulder's width apart, and chin up high, showing off his rather good-looking face. His mouth was in a straight line, totally expressionless as he looked down at her.

And for one _mad _second, Donna was sure she knew him.

"…hello?" she asked meekly, suddenly very shy around this familiar stranger.

"Donna Noble?" he asked in an almost robotic voice. Donna let out a tiny squeak under her breath. What had she done? Was he the police or something? She hadn't done anything wrong! All that she'd done that was even vaguely bad in the past few weeks (or days; Donna wasn't very good with time) was drink in every drop of gossip Veena told her. Admittedly, that include how one of her co-workers was getting it off with one of the teenagers there on work experience, but that was _it_.

"Yes." Donna replied, aware that she was keeping the man waiting with her internal panic. Quickly, so not to give him the impression she was some idiot, she put on an icy expression and placed one hand on her hip, "Who's askin'?"

The man watched her carefully, before, to Donna's surprise, his face split into a grin, "Donna! Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

Donna's mouth fell open as the man's posture relaxed. His hands came back from around his back, revealing he was carrying a plastic bag.

"Sorry, where are my manners? My name's Jack; but that's all I can tell you," the man said. Donna frowned, utterly confused. This 'Jack' man seemed almost…_flustered_, as he began digging through the bag. Which was odd; Jack wasn't _normally _one to get flustered, especially around women.

Wait.

Why would she think that?

"Okay. Got it!"

Donna blinked, watching as he pulled something out of the bag, "Okay, sorry. This stupid thing was kind of hard to get up and out in the open. You know, I knew a guy who was something like that…"

Grinning at his own innuendo, Jack held out the hand holding onto the objects to Donna, "Here! I want you to have these."

"Oh my God!" Donna cried. She couldn't help it; in his hand was a single, absolutely perfect red rose. She held out her hand, noticing it shake slightly, and he gently lowered it onto her palm. His hand brushed hers as they went and Donna couldn't help but see how it looked (and naturally committed it to memory). It was rough, as if used to years of work, but strangely warm and comforting.

"This is gonna sound weird," Jack told her, his voice lowered slightly, "But it took me years to find a rose that flawless."

Donna wrinkled her nose and gave him a small smile, "You're right. That _does _sound weird."

Jack chuckled, "Yeah. Well. It's why I haven't visited earlier."

"Wha—?"

"Don't ask," he interrupted, "Please. I shouldn't be here, but I felt I _had _to see you. I've only just worked up the nerve _now_, after this long! And it took me pretty long to find, er, _that_," here, he nodded to the rose she was cradling in her hand. Donna was still bemused by this man, but nodded at him to continue.

"I thought a rose would be fitting," he said, "See, I knew a girl called Rose; just as beautiful as that flower there. And you saved her life. _Everyone's _lives, even. Donna?"

At the word 'Rose', the image of a young blonde girl with a London accent and a lisp had flashed in front of Donna's eyes, momentarily distracting her.

_Donna Noble, you're the most important woman in the whole of creation._

With a small hiss, she staggered back slightly and rested a hand on her forehead as a burning sensation coursed through her. Jack looked horrified.

"Oh God – oh _God_! Donna, Donna, I'm sorry! I shouldn't be here – _oh_, he was right, I _should've _left you alone…I just had to see you, okay?! It's been eight years, and I've done nothing but worry, _think _about you and – are you okay?"

Donna was looking at him, totally still and a little glassy-eyed. Jack watched her warily, worried she'd remember him – or worse, slap him, "Don-na?"

"Why would a total stranger say these things?" she demanded – not angry, just curious, and a little frustrated that she _recognized _him, but had no idea who he was; why would she forget _that _face?, "Especially to _me_? I'm just a secretary! Not temporary anymore, which is something admittedly, but still? Nothing special."

"Of course you're special," Jack told her, his voice laced with sadness, "You just don't know it."

There was total silence for a moment. Donna watched the man carefully, almost fearfully as he met her gaze and didn't budge. This stranger, a man she was _sure _she'd never met in her life, knew so much about her, gave her flowers and swore blind some blonde kid with a big gun (_big gun?_) told her she was the most important woman _ever_. And yet, she knew nothing about him except his bloody name and the fact he was gorgeous. And enigmatic to boot. Seriously, it was _textbook _enigmatic.

But somehow, Donna didn't want to know how they'd met or when they'd last seen one other. Something stopped her, as if asking and knowing would be deadly. So instead, she held out a free hand and said, "It's getting late, Jack. I think – "

"I should go," Jack concluded, nodding. He looked a bit lost as he stared at her hand like she'd kicked a puppy. Donna, rolling her eyes as she did it, held out her arms and stated, "Okay, then, since ya know me so well. You can hug me if you want."

Jack chuckled lowly at that, though Donna didn't miss the flinch that accompanied it. Now she felt like she'd kicked _another _puppy.

"No, seriously," she said softly, "You can hug me."

He didn't waste much time. Stepping forward so he was _completely _invading her personal space without actually touching her (not that Donna minded), he wrapped his arms tightly around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. She was surprised at how comfortable it felt hugging Jack; he was warm, she got a sneaky feel at the muscles she _knew _were under his shirt and it felt so totally right she wished she could invite him in, sit him down and ask how she knew him in order to know him better. But that annoying little voice in her mind told her that that was wrong, that in the long run, she'd only be hurting Jack. So, as she felt his arms begin to loosen around her, she knew that very shortly he'd be gone.

But instead, she got a little surprised. As he went to pull away, Jack very deliberately leant in and brushed his lips against hers. Donna surprised herself even more by reaching up and securely grabbing his coat lapels, holding him in place as she deepened the kiss.

What would Veena or her mum say if they caught her snogging a complete stranger on the doorstep? Well, Donna didn't care; she'd only ever done one thing even slightly reckless in the past, and that was having her baby out of wedlock and on her own, since the father had scarpered before Donna could even finish saying, "I'm pregnant and it's yours". Really, kissing Jack didn't even feel _wrong_; she felt utterly right and special for the first time in her life, like she really was the most important woman in the universe to more than one person.

All too soon, he pulled away, and Donna crashed back down to Earth.

"Donna…"

"You have to go," she interrupted, nodding in understanding; _God_, she wished she could kiss him again, but she knew he couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

"Suppose there's no point saying, 'See you around'?" she asked bitterly. Jack smiled hollowly and shook his head.

"Nope."

"Ah. Didn't think so."

Jack straightened his collar, cleared his throat, and then nodded at Donna, "Okay then. Um, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Yeah, apparently." Donna grumbled. Jack grinned, and swept a lock of her red hair behind her ear.

"Just remember, Donna," he whispered in her ear, sending chills down her neck, "You're the most important woman in the universe."

Then he turned and left, disappearing into the dark instantly. Donna swallowed a lump in her throat – _why am I crying?! _–, knowing that would be the last she'd see of that familiar, beautiful stranger.

With a sigh, Donna turned back into her house and back into real life. She still had to finish the ironing, and now it was ten past, she had to be up for half past seven to get her daughter ready for school, and she was bloody tired. Pausing, she examined the rose in her hand and smiled.

A rose. How did he know?

"Wassat?" a sleepy voice broke the silence. Donna looked around to see a little girl leaning on the stair banister. Her blue eyes were droopy with sleep and her red hair was messy, as if she'd been woken up.

"What's what?" Donna asked, playing with her daughter.

"_That_?" she clarified, pointing at the rose.

"It's a rose, silly. You know what a rose is," Donna replied, coming closer to let her daughter examine it, "What you're named after."

River Rose Noble frowned as she scrutinized the flower, before her tired face brightened, "It's pretty!"

"Just like you," Donna crooned, fluffing the six-year-old's hair a little, "Now, come on, River, you're meant to be in bed."

"_Muuuuuuuuuuuum_," River asked sweetly, "Who was that man?"

"Man?"

"The one at t'door, in the coat. Who was he?"

Donna felt her throat constrict again. Her child, _so _inquisitive. Why did she have to ask about _that man_? The man she didn't know, but couldn't help but long for; the man who knew her better than she herself did; the man who she almost wished would run back in and admit he loved her.

"Oh, honey," she sighed, blinking back tears and smoothing down River's hair, "Don't…just don't."

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**Author's Note: **…_kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAA! _Okay, I'm in no way sane. And I still feel like I've been writers-block-ed. DAMMIT. Aw, well. I just hope you enjoyed this. Please review!


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